Yawwwwn

I’d love to share some revelations with you. Some epiphanies are big and need a little explaining. Some are silly. All of them sunk into my psyche in a deep, meaningful way during my vacation and without judging, I had a way of being with this awareness in a completely new way, like being taken to a party where I didn’t know anyone. I had to feel my way around, ask questions, and above all else, I had to listen. So, let’s begin…

Holiday cards aren’t apologies. Years ago I adored rushing home from work and tearing into the holiday card envelopes searching for little treasures. Heartwarming pictures of smiling couples on the beach, children (whose faces you’d recognize but they seem to have sprouted overnight) huddled with their proud parents or sleeping newborns with squished little faces nestled in each envelope. Those were the days. Folks wrote a little something about their year and sent their love, it all felt so personal. So much love.

I was in on the game, too. I loved sending pictures of my beautiful children to all corners of the country and beyond. Like sharing a tiny bit of the joy I felt in my heart with each special person near and far. Then things changed. The year before Hope transitioned we sent our cards with a picture of the kids at their favorite play space; Will clad in a policeman’s costume and my oldest in a princess dress, complete with tiara. You’d think I shot the Pope. The reactions to my son wearing a “girl’s get up” were strong.

One could say it prepared me for what was to come, but it felt like someone had taken a special part of the holiday away from me. I know that sounds silly, but imagine if you had a special holiday feast with your family every single year and looked forward to it with such joy that you started meal planing two months ahead of time, and then someone tells you they’d rather eat at a fast food restaurant than eat at your house. Well, it sobered me right up. I began to see who was really accepting of us, and who wasn’t.

The year after, the kids’ father suggested no cards. And the year after that, and after that. Now my stream of holiday goodness no longer fills my mailbox. The cards just stopped coming. I get some here and there, and don’t get me wrong, I’m truly grateful, but it hasn’t been the same. Just like life, things change, and we shift accordingly.

Imagine my surprise when there on the dining table was a card I’d never expected in a million years given our relationship. My knee jerk reactions was to toss the unopened rectangle in the recycling and start dinner, but I stopped. Maybe she wrote an apology on the back of the card? Something like, “Seasons Greetings! I’m sorry we make gay jokes about your child. Happy 2012!” I ripped open the card with almost the same enthusiasm as I once did, only to find two teens mugging surrounded by a hideous cherry red & kelly green bonanza. Back of card, empty.

I watched myself as I ripped the picture in half, slowly severing those two heads, then turned sideways to keep ripping and ripping until the little chards sprinkled like snow, peacefully falling to the ground. Then I was happy. Little kaleidoscope flecks reflecting from the chandelier like holiday lights. Nope, I didn’t grab the glue gun and repurpose, I scooped it up and dumped it, dusting my hands over the bin, smiling like my Christmas wish came true.

My joy came from one place – truth. This is the first year I embraced my loss, my longing, my fear, my grief, my joy, my rage, my resentment, my inability to change things that will never be changed. They will always talk about us behind our backs. That’s okay. There are people like that everywhere. Doesn’t mean I need to like it, or dislike it. It is what is.

Earlier today someone mentioned that some people are like clouds, when they leave the room the sun begins to shine again. I like that. It’s not the person’s fault. It’s where and who they are, and I can’t change that. The only thing I can control is me, my feelings and my reactions. So my new holiday saying is, “When life gives you shitty holiday cards, make psychedelic snow!”

Every day I begin again. I’m not into New Year’s Eve. Never was. Just like most evenings, I’m in bed around 10, and happy. You don’t need a new year to roll around to have a clean slate each day; each moment offers you that same opportunity. It’s never too late. Buddhists believe that death is like changing your day clothes into pajamas, you simply shed the old and turn toward the new. I like that.

Instead of resolutions that come and go, I savor the intention of being present, and if I can do that, try residing in a place of love. Simple, yet harder than it looks.

Never underestimate the power of Krampus. This was our first year lightheartedly talking about Santas’s less popular sidekick. If you don’t know him, Google. While tucking my kids into bed I had to assure them that he lives in Switzerland, and doesn’t have a work visa.

Each past hurdle & heartache leads us to now, and I don’t want anything else. I’d never trade a moment, even when I’ve fallen to my knees in despair.

So my child is gender diverse. She deals with extra challenges, encounters a world that doesn’t understand her, feels outside the loop on many occasions, and doesn’t understand exactly why this has happened to her. That’s all true, yet somehow you’d never know any of that from knowing her. She is the most brave person I’ve ever known. She stands in truth no matter the result. Her courage inspires the rest of us, like moths to a flame. Still, her greatest quality is her ability to love, and it’s taught me how to finally grow up and be the person I’ve always hoped I could be someday.

Well, today is someday. I’m living my dream. It might not look like it to anyone else. Our lives are messy, and complicated. Most people don’t get us so they stay their distance and judge us on what they think they know. That’s okay, because we are fine. We are loving and strong. We are living in our truth. And that means more than anything else in the world to me. It’s my greatest gift.

My heart swells with enormous gratitude, for the lessons I’ve learned, the people I’ve spent time with, and the for the mere fact that I can wake from a deep, deep sleep and begin again.

Of course, as these things go, I didn’t notice what I had done. I thought I was leisurely checking out site improvements, sampling the bells and whistles, perusing what was out there to make my site faster, easier… better.

When I found out what I’d done it was as if my cat ran out of the house and under the neighbor’s bent wheel. Like the shout that never really came out of your mouth, but it was right there nonetheless. I felt sick. Where were my words? Where was my heart?

As you sit in your (hopefully) cozy chair reading this you can tell it all worked out, but the exercise walked me through a necessary evil. The Universe presented a challenge to me and with diligent faith I reacted. During the whole endeavor it became painfully clear that this place is so special to me that I’d never want to let it go. Or take it for granted.

This space is me. It soothes me like a backrub. It stirs in me like an episode of American Horror Story, too scary to watch so you listen under the warmth of your sofa blanket. It’s not a blog, a thing to visit now and again… well, it may be for you. Not for me. Not at all.

It’s the light streaming from my crown chakra as if I’m being lifted right off the ground. It’s my darkness, memories of my childhood in the Dungeon with the rusty wet stains near the broken metal door missing the screen and the Devil between two locked doors. It’s my eyes as I watch the world around, as I follow my children running in front of me their laughter muffled in their coats and scarves. It’s every wish I ever hoped for. It’s every dream left unfulfilled. My secrets. My failures. My triumphs. My love.

It’s the reminder of what makes world worth living.

When friends asked me to an event last November I couldn’t even vocalize what torment the thought of attending brought me. I felt like every name spoken could be my child, and I simply could not endure that thought. Not with others.

Ever since my father’s sudden and tragic death in 1981, I kept Loss under lock and key like a prisoner fearing it’s strength would consume me. There was a persistent, yet completely hidden darkness in me. Something I couldn’t shake after standing in the doorway watching him die. I never wanted to name it, or own it, like the various self-help books I consumed like snacks instructed me. I couldn’t possibly go near the dungeon where I held Loss in solitary confinement so why go searching for opportunities to allow it’s escape?

Only until my Reiki Master and I started to peel away the layers of understanding did I accept that these are my greatest life lessons, my biggest obstacles to growth, and I had to decide whether I would turn my back yet again or stand in the face of fear with arms wide open. I was done running, I knew it, so I let go.

I let go of the tape forever running in my head that said that everything and everyone will leave me. I let go of my father’s untimely passing. I let go of the abuse that prevented me from feeling. I let go of my programmed personal narrative telling me I could never be enough. I let go of pain, and said my goodbyes. And with all that newfound space I focused on one simple thing – love. Love for me, for you, for all of us.

Love. It’s my mantra. It’s my compass. It’s my fuel. It’s the reason I agreed to run a booth for PFLAG this year for the Transgender Day of Remembrance because I will no longer hide locked behind closed doors. I will go and celebrate every life lived. I’ll honor families and friends who supported their loved ones quest toward truth. I will be present, with my heart and arms open wide.

“I want to live, I want to give…” 

Neil Young’s harmonica instantly transports my brain into warm & fuzzy autumnal mode as I sit here and wait for my almond milk chai latte. Glancing out the sun streaked window I realize summer’s gone, and the chill sets in like an old friend coming to visit. Wherever I look lately I find myself seeking out warmth and comfort and stability. I feel like a flimsy plastic bag that’s taken flight in mid air. Not quite sure where I’ll land.

My mind wants to quickly label this feeling anxiety, although with deeper inspection that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m free falling, swirling high above the trees and suddenly plummeting down toward the sidewalk, and oddly not a bit scared. For the first time in my life I’m rolling with it.

Like an onion, another layer of protection is stripped away. Slowly I move closer to the core, the truth, and I like what I see. Quirky, imperfect honesty. A heart of gold. A strength wells within me as if I’ve tapped into a long forgotten reserve battery. It’s love. Love for me, exactly as I am.

“when i was a child, I was stubborn about many things, and didn’t really know what I want. I thought I was a girl in a boy’s body, and constantly dressed up. I wanted to be a girl, even going into high school, and would dream of it all the time. Nowadays, i’m a man, a 30 year old man, and those feelings have completely left. I’m glad my mother and father, who caught me doing this were ashamed. I’m glad I found out that though I wanted to be a girl, I would always be a boy. I have a penis, and I had to deal with that, and now i’m thankful I was born the way I was. I have a Y chromosome and I will not ignore that. It’s shameful that you don’t remind your child of the same thing I had to face about myself. You let your child live as they want, yet THEY ARE A CHILD, and children are the ones to learn, not the other way around. Your boy is a boy, will be a man, and you cannot, nor can he change that. You’re a parent that, though has faced much through this whole ordeal, have given in to the demands of someone much younger than you, as if they knew better than you. I agree with Lady Gaga about her one hit song, “I was born this way”- fess up to the fact that your boy was born this way-a boy.”

Of course, the reader and I have different belief systems and will have to agree to disagree on this. There doesn’t seem to be any room for change or awareness, but this message that I should be ashamed of myself (much like the reader said his parents were ashamed of him) makes me understand why people go into hiding figuratively and literally as they steep in denial when their feelings don’t match what society traditionally deems as “normal”, whatever “normal” is. And I’m not just talking about trans issues, I’m talking about anything that seemingly goes against the grain.

In my comment back to the reader I admitted I no longer believe in shame. When I grew up I knew what shame was and over the years I started to dismantle that notion that I wasn’t good enough just the way I was bit by bit. The last piece of shame faded when my daughter started living genuinely and I began to understand the power of loving ourselves just the way we are in the present moment.

I don’t believe in the purpose of shame. I do believe in love and truth; however, and I will follow that path without hesitation.

Will, on the other hand, stood comfortably looking at me stark naked as he was with a face like a question mark. “What??!?” he replied. Apparently he doesn’t channel “nakedness” like Hope and I do. He simply has no issues with it. And really, if we look at it, Will doesn’t have a lot of issues with anything. Quirky as he is, he is the most amiable, adaptable, intuitive, loving and supportive child I’ve every encountered. He is Hope’s biggest fan.

In all my work writing, speaking and advocating for gender diverse kids, I want to underscore the importance of siblings and validate their experiences. All too often siblings willingly step aside and let the occasional (or sometimes continual) drama of their gender diverse sibling’s life take over the family dynamic. Siblings have this beautiful capacity to understand on the most fundamental level and often selflessly act as loving buffers to the outside world. Can a parent get any luckier?

All too often I lay in bed ruminating that I’ve not given Will enough credit. His plate remains full most days. Let’s be honest, for the past three years he’s filled various roles for all of us: bodyguard, professional listener, motivational speaker, enlightened poet, personal assistant, master comedian, loving brother and a dream-come-true son. And he’s six.

Thank you Will. From the bottom of my heart. I may not say it enough but your quiet goodness inspires me every single day.

Lonely alley at sundown, just me and my thoughts, until I saw this little snippet of wisdom shared on the side of a building. Yes. It’s all what we make it. Minute to minute, day to day. What are we really searching for?

Busy-ness by creating a double booked schedule to keep us from standing still and feeling what’s left when all the i’s are dotted and t’s crossed?

Acceptance from others so we start to believe that we are good enough?

Money so that we can measure our wealth by our bank account and not by our heart?

Love from anyone or anything that fills the void?

Sedation so that we don’t feel anything at all?

Or do we seek Enlightenment? Truth? Self? The Divine? Whatever you want to call it… do we search internally for fulfillment or externally? Where is our happiness found?

I envisioned the height of healthy when I pictured my kid-free moments on the road filled with demanding ashtanga yoga sessions each day, lots of intense meditation and raw food wherever I could find it.

Thankfully some of my original intention actually materialized. I did a lot of meaningful meditation and while I appreciate the trajectory it gave me, like following an arrow ripping through the air toward destiny, I wasn’t aware that’s what I needed the most. Not sweat-filled asanas invigorating my being with breath and movement. Apparently I needed the mental workout even more this time.

Instead of the wheat grass dreams of my trip, I stumbled on some of the most comforting foods (and restaurants) I could not have imagined. During one walk in Philly I found myself staring at Eric Ripert‘s restaurant, 10 Arts Bistro & Lounge, where Top Chef’s Jennifer Carroll is Chef, and made reservations without delay.

Friday night I wined and dined myself like the best date of my life, and in the end it was the best move I made. The fact that I cherished every single moment, immersed in my newly signed copy of Chaz Bono’s book while savoring the most delectable meal summed up this life lesson – I can enjoy it by myself.

Although the eating dinner by yourself is important, I’ve never had a problem with that. As a former flight attendant, I’ve experienced the most amazing venues all by my lonesome and never felt a tinge of discomfort. It’s taking myself out to celebrate that has changed. In the past I thought I needed to celebrate with someone, as if that made my victory more real. Like it didn’t really count unless someone else recognized it and saw it as special.

As I sat and looked around the beautiful space at dinner I felt for the first time that all I truly needed was my own gratitude for what I accomplished, no matter how big or how small. No other pat on the back was necessary, nor would anything from the outside ever feel as special as the recognition I could provide myself for a good well done. It may sound utterly simple (or egocentric) to the rest of you, but this was seriously a revelation for me.

Beyond self-love or even self-care, I felt genuine pride really flow through me. For the first time I gladly accepted that feeling and no one else needed to see it or even know it.

Did you see this line-up? It’s astounding how much we can learn in 3 short days, but I’m doing it all… including the yoga and meditation. I’m in. All in.

It’s funny, my daughter told someone recently that I was going to a conference and that I wrote a book. I was surprised because she prefers that we live relatively (almost completely) stealth so I probably produced a more than inquisitive look at her proud declaration. (Still working on my poker face truth be told…) Later I asked about it and she simply replied that she was happy that I was “helping people be better parents.” Whoa!!!!?? 

I wish that I could assume such a glorious job title, but alas I felt more comfortable clarifying that I ask questions and talk about things that might help parents along their journey. Simple. A take-it-or-leave-it type of thing. No pressure. But in her eyes, when she sees the cover of my book she’s constantly reminded of our talks about the parents who may not understand their child’s gender identity, or as she prefers to it as “how people feel inside”. She may ponder what life would be like if we didn’t listen to her or forced her to be someone she isn’t. That breaks my heart.

Even my son brought on the water works today. Bright and early, before 6am he chose to absolve me of my parental duties by telling me that he “forgives me for missing his graduation” and gave me an enormous hug that made me wish that this was my wake up call every morning. Mind you, he is graduating from preschool, which is huge for him and totally important. I get that. Still.

I start to tear up when I think of connecting with others this weekend. Why? Maybe because I feel the emotional weight of families who struggle with issues surrounding gender expression. I was there just a few years ago, not knowing where to turn or how to help. Life looked condensed in a way, with fear closing all the doors I wish were open. That was then.

Today we are free. Not completely transparent, but living and standing in our truth day in and day out. And I have so many people to thank for that. You know who you are – you beautiful, courageous, loving, loyal, open and supportive friends who have stood by me even when my brave disguise had worn thin. You’ve lifted me, carried me, soothed me and inspired me to do more for all of the families, like ours, that want to live genuinely, no matter what that looks like. I’m eternally grateful. And blessed.

The kids sauntered over once the discussion started and stayed for the whole thing. We watched so intently you’d think there was a space shuttle launching right before our eyes. What a courageous man. What a powerful message. I couldn’t hold back the water works. Truth be told, the kids even started to roll their eyes when I requested tissue for the tenth time. Yes, their mom gets a bit sentimental. Rightfully so.

My heart soared to learn about how Roger Ebert morphed what looked like an impossible situation to most of us into a fulfilling, rewarding life. He never gave up. When the TED discussion came to a close, I felt compelled to revisit a story I’d read about three years ago. Team Hoyt.

If you aren’t familiar with Dick and Rick Hoyt, you should be. They are a dynamic team, a loving duo, and a constant reminder to me (and many) to live fully. I’m not talking about counting our blessings and saying thanks more and all that jazz, I’m talking about finding out about what really means something to you in this world and pursuing it without limits. No boundaries. No finish lines. No stopping. Going beyond what you thought was humanly possible and then waking up and doing it again.

It doesn’t have to be physical either. Many of us are sitting back and saying, “I can’t run marathons, I have (this or that issue)” and that’s okay. Maybe exerting yourself physically isn’t your thing, but what is? Whatever it is that you feel passionate about, whether it’s planting veggies in abandoned lots or taking care of an older relative- do it, and do it with an open heart.

Buddha’s last words are something I think of every day, if not hourly. He reassured his followers as he started to leave his physical body. “Strive on tirelessly,” he told them when they asked how they would go on without him. The message has been interpreted in various ways, but this one resonates with me in a special way. Keep going with tenacity, perseverance and fortitude is what he is saying. Continue. Don’t stop.

I experience Dick Hoyt’s love for his child and I am rendered speechless. Can I summon a similar type of love, patience and courage every day as I parent and advocate for my children? Is it possible for me to break through my fear, discard my selfishness and release my ego long enough to meet every challenge before me with grace, with purpose? I ask myself all the time. Some days I respond with a resounding “Hell yes!” and other days I struggle to find the right words. Doubt can be like a sedative, coaxing us to give up a little bit more optimism each day.

Dick Hoyt has run more than 1,000 races with his son, and his son cannot move on his own. Dick swims pulling a boat behind him with Rick inside. After that Dick carries his son from the boat to the conjoined bike. After biking is done, Dick pushes Rick in front of him as he runs. Can you possibly imagine? Rick told his dad that he doesn’t feel handicapped when he is racing, and so they continue.

Now that my kleenex have piled like a small mountain on the table and thankfully my sobs have turned to sniffles I can run to my little wonders and hug them like I’ll never let them go. Sure, they’ll snuggle at first and then slowly let go as they turn their attention back to their art projects and games, but I’ll freeze that moment in my mind, what it feels like to have my five and seven year olds in my arms. These two little miracles in my life.

What do I need in this world? Very little actually. What do I have to give? Everything, and more.